Let it Snow
by Chloe Winchester
Summary: The weather gets the best of the Winchester brothers, and Dean will sacrifice anything to save Sammy. Hypothermic!Sam HypothermicProtective!Dean Wee!Chesters NO CHARACTER DEATH! A little something I cooked up for Christmas! Please R&R ONESHOT


--Wee!Chesters Dean: 15 Sam: 11. Something i cooked up for Christmas!--

**Let it Snow**

He looked out into the night, seeing nothing but the swirling white-gray sheets billowing as if they were on a clothesline. There was a blurred streetlight a ways off, too far away. The darkness wasn't helping him at all. He could barely see an inch in front of his face. God, why did the ghost have to be out here?!

"SAAAMMMMYY?!" He bellowed. Nothing but the hideous and howling wind met his ears. Sam couldn't last in this. He had his Carhart on, yeah, but it was too cold. The blizzard had come up on them so fast they had no time to even _try_ and find each other and get to the Impala, fast.

The thought of his eleven year-old little brother out in this made his stomach curl. The collar of his leather jacket whipped against his face; his hands were starting to lose their feeling.

"SAAAAAAAAMMM!" He screamed, icy air blowing down his throat. Something skinny and shaking fell into his arms.  
Flecks of ice were stuck to Sam's face, his lips were blue and shaking. The tips of his hair were frozen and stuck with snow.

"Oh, god, Sammy…" Dean breathed, his entire body shaking just as much as Sam's was.

"'S co-co-col-ld, D-Dean," Sam stuttered. "So-so c-c-cold."

"I kn-know S-Sa-Sammy." He dragged Sam back into the rundown barn behind them. At least it was some shield from the wind. But not much.

Dean collapsed to his knees, tucking Sam underneath him.

"'S o-ok-okay, S-S-Sa-mmy," Dean assured through chattering teeth. He could try and get Sam to the Impala, but it would either kill one of them or both of them. If he left him here he could die on the way, and Sam could freeze to death before he got back. And he was getting weaker and weaker by the second. The subzero temperature was literally draining the life and warmth out of him. Sam's shivering was becoming less and less prominent. His eyes were closing, pulse slowing. He was dying.

"N-no, S-Sammy, n-n-n-no!" He shook his brother, trying to keep him awake. "W-wake u-up bu-budd-ddy," Sam's eyes fell shut and didn't open again. Dean pushed his numb fingers to his neck, trying to feel a pulse. It was weak, very, very weak. "NO!" Dean yanked off his leather jacket and long-sleeve shirt, leaving himself in just a t-shirt. He wrapped both around his brother, rubbing his back and tucking him further underneath him, his arms clenching him tight. "C'-C-mon, Sammy!" Sam's eyes peeled open, barely a slit. Dean felt his neck again; his pulse was higher. He smiled, pressing his cheek to the top of Sam's head.

"Sammy…" He was so unbearably cold. And he knew he was dying too. But Sam was at least a little warm. Sam was okay, he'd be okay. Which means he could let go. Darkness fell over him, and he wasn't cold anymore.

* * *

"Deeeaaannnn!" The voice was far away, like an echo. It was pulling him back. "Deeeaaannnn!" He knew that voice. He opened his eyes. Bright light was in his face, making it hard to see. The cold was still there, the wind was still pounding against the barn, going through the many cracks and holes. And the doors were open, the barn doors were wide open!

"Dean, Dean, look at me!" A person standing in front of him said frantically.

"D-D-Dad?" He stammered. That's what the light was. Headlights.

"C'mon, I'm gonna get you out of here, son." John said, reaching for him. Dean felt the bundle underneath him stir.

_Sammy…_

"N-no, ge-ge-get S-S-Sam…pl-please…" John looked from one son to the other. "Pl-please D-D-Da-Dad." He understood then that Dean wouldn't let him take him first no matter what. No, like in every other situation of his eldest son's life, Sammy came first.

He pried Dean's half frozen fingers off of Sam and carefully pulled him out and up, toward his truck.

Dean fell over his knees, too weak and too cold and too tired to hold himself up.

John put Sam in the truck, buckling him in and letting his head rest against the glass.

"Sammy?" John said, making sure he was still awake.

"Dad…" He whispered. "Get D-D-Dean…"

John turned and ran as fast as he could to his son. He took the blanket he had snatched from the warm truck and wrapped it around him.

The tips of Dean's hair were iced over, his skin blue, lips purple. He gasped in relief when the blanket touched him. John helped him stand, almost able to hear Dean's frozen joints creak. He got Dean in the truck with his brother, whom he leaned against.

"It's okay, no-no-n-now," He whispered. "'S-'s ok-okay S-Samm-Sammy."

John drove out of the snowed over driveway, reminding himself to call Bobby and have him tow the Impala to the motel tomorrow. He glanced back at his boys. He had all the heaters pointed in their direction at full blast. His brave, brave boys. Sam and Dean were both asleep. Dean's head was in Sam's side, and Sam's arm was draped over him.

And it was only when Dean felt Sam's arm fall over him did he let himself pass out. Because Sammy was okay.

* * *

He woke a little while later, warm and comfy. There were blankets wrapped all around him, and a space heater pointed right at him. He felt something move next to him and he jumped, looking sideways. Sam was curled next to him in the sleeping bag, sleeping soundly. Dean glanced around in the darkness, looking for the digital clock. He smiled lightly when he read the numbers.

"Merry Christmas, Sammy."

**END**

--Aww. Merry Christmas everyone!--


End file.
